


Domestic Bliss

by Titty_Now_Titty_Later (orphan_account)



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Modern AU, Relationship Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 08:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Titty_Now_Titty_Later
Summary: It's all about compromise and communication





	

**Author's Note:**

> heCK what is it with me and posting sub-par writing asdfgh;lkjh i started this m o n t h s ago as a drunken... _thing_ and never finished it but I was having a Rough Time this morning and decided to dig it out to take my mind off stuff. And... it worked? I guess?? I mean i _finished_ it, so,,,

"I killed someone."

It was said casually and over the first drinks of the night. No coercion, no intoxication.

Absently, Tyki wondered why he said it at all. He wasn't particularly guilt-ridden, wasn’t particularly fussed. But his lazy eyes had fallen on Allen and he’d realised they were sitting, again, in Tyki's lounge room. It was such a bone-deep feeling of  _ routine _ that Tyki could predict with almost perfect clarity the way the night would unfold around them. A few drinks would pass with light conversation, perhaps a game of cards. They would inevitably gravitate towards strip poker and Tyki would inevitably have the eighteen year old up against a wall and it would be great and passionate and violent and  _ alive  _ for however long it took, and then Allen would settle down tucked against Tyki's back (he insisted that he be the big spoon until Tyki stopped arguing) and Tyki would fall asleep loving the way Allen slept with his arms curled tight around Tyki's stomach, his face buried between Tyki’s shoulderblades. He would wake up in the morning maybe loving the way Allen slept with his arms curled tight around Tyki's stomach and his face buried between his shoulder blades, but more probably to an empty bed, a note on the pillow and a cold coffee on the counter.

It wasn't like it was a lie, anyway. Killing someone, that is. 

Allen's eyes slid over to Tyki while his darting thumbs hovered over the screen of his phone. "Um?" he supplied.

"Way back," Tyki shrugged and stretched his body along the couch. "Gang days, or whatever."

Allen seemed unaffected and mostly as though he were trying to backtrack Tyki's train of thought. "How would you define 'gang days'?" he asked a little haughtily. 

Both Tyki's eyebrows arched by way of scathing rebuttal and he wondered if he was looking for a fight. "I define it," he retorted mildly, refusing to be dragged into  _ that  _ argument at least, "by when I was last taken off active duty for the Noah."

Allen too seemed prepared to field that mine and let his eyes fall back to his phone. "I didn't know you killed anyone," he stated as though it just... like... it wasn't a thing. Like as if it were just an  _ arbitrary  _ thing instead of a  _ thing  _ thing. Like Tyki hadn't just told his lover he'd killed someone, that that was an actual thing in his past that was part of him.  _ I killed a human being.  _ What the fuck.

Tyki settled in, tucked his hands behind his head and wondered if that was just... what they were.  _ Arbitrary _ . Everything they said, everything they did. Just. Meaningless  _ whatever  _ without intent or direction. Well, it was Allen's turn with the conversation ball. If Tyki's icebreaker had failed in the face of seven thousand years’ worth of frozen salt he'd just  _ love  _ to see what Allen came up with.

"When?" Allen asked at length, when Tyki had made it clear he was keeping his silence. It didn't really feel like a victory when it had to be wrenched out painful and reluctant, but Tyki kind of hated to admit he felt that same painful reluctance every time Allen was like this. Like pulling fucking nails with him.

"Ten years ago? Maybe?"

"You were eighteen?" Allen asked, his engagement in the 'conversation' almost coming along well.

"Uh," Tyki scowled, thinking. "No, I was... twenty. Eight years ago," he corrected.

Allen seemed... considerably more alert. Which Tyki, at that moment, realised was exactly what he  _ didn't  _ want and that they should return safely back to domestic negligence and whatever fucking vague sense of discomfort he felt there.

“If there’s something you’d like to say,” Allen muttered sourly, thumbs stabbing sharply at his phone screen, “just say it.”

Tyki rolled to his side, cushioned his head on his arm. Well. Too fucking late now. Allen was listening and Tyki was digging himself a hole and they were going to have this conversation sooner or later. “Aren’t you bored?” 

Allen’s fingers stilled and his eyes narrowed, still locked on the screen but his attention undoubtedly on Tyki. “That’s a dangerous question,” he remarked, his easy tone undercut by the warning in his eyes.

But Tyki  _ lived  _ for that danger, for pushing past that warning. Somewhere along the line Allen had stopped pushing back and Tyki was  _ bored.  _ So he arched his eyebrow, waited for Allen to look up, eyes on Tyki. Where they should be. Narrowed and calculating and trying to figure out just what Tyki wanted.

“This,” Allen said slowly, gesturing vaguely between them, “works.”

“Hardly,” Tyki scoffed. He’d been telling himself that for months and it was getting old.

Allen sighed, quiet and careful, and turned to face Tyki properly. “It works through this mutual agreement that we don’t talk about shit we can’t find common ground on,” he elaborated, a scowl on his pretty face. “Like no-man’s land.”

“No-man’s land isn’t peace,” Tyki commented scathingly, “it’s a warzone where seventy per cent of fatalities occur.”

“So are we going to be a fatality,” Allen demanded, “or are we going to stop talking about it?”

Tyki frowned a little, moved to make himself more comfortable. “Why are those the only two options?” he countered. “Parley,” he sarcastically mimed waving a flag.

Allen sighed again, long and low and heavy. Landed his chin in his hand and looked at Tyki with no small amount of weighty severity. “I don’t want to have this conversation,” he stated, anything but amused.

Tyki smiled without humour and remarked, “Well, it’s hardly fun when it’s just me talking.” The words left unsaid echoed across the space between them and the silence they’d held for far too long. It was difficult to maintain a relationship where everyone was talking but no one was saying a damn word. Tyki didn’t fall in love with fake smiles because he wanted them pointed at him. “Aren’t we meant to be on the same side with this?” he asked, prodded, tried to hide how exhausted it all made him feel.

“When,” Allen bit, “have we  _ ever  _ been on the same side?”

Ttki pursed his lips, sat up. “What are we?” he hummed, voice quiet and almost dangerous. “Allen?” he prompted when the boy held his tongue. “Are we still enemies?” he leaned forwards, elbows on his knees. “After all this,” he murmured, almost a whisper, “are we still enemies?”

Allen glowered, seemed to struggle with what to say. Tyki read the sharp warning on his face before he finally opened his mouth - interrupt and die. “Sometimes,” he stated, slow and trying his damned best to sound calm, “I think that’s all we were ever meant to be.” Tyki’s jaw tightened and he clasped his hands together, clenched them tight to keep his words locked in. “But I chose this,” Allen glowered, “so I’m going to  _ try  _ until it works.” He stayed where he was, rooted to the chair, but his expression morphed from unwilling aggression to something like determination. “Loving you takes  _ effort _ ,” he said in words Tyki could understand, “but I chose this path. So I’ll keep walking it.”

Tyki let the silence grow between them for a few seconds before spreading his hands questioningly. “May I speak?” he enquired with an arched brow, his lips twitching when Allen rolled his eyes and leaned an elbow on the table. “What’s the point?” he asked plainly.

Allen glanced to the side as though expecting someone to be there to  translate for him. When he looked back to Tyki there was confusion flitting across his expression. “Sorry?” he asked and - okay yes there was a flash of hurt there. Which… okay so it wasn’t  _ good,  _ but at least he was still like. Emotionally invested enough in their relationship to  _ care  _ about what Tyki said.

Tyki hummed and pushed his hair back from his face. “I mean,” he considered, chewed his tongue for a better way to put it. “Can you see yourself being  _ happy  _ with me?” he asked eventually, dropping his eyes back to Allen’s. He looked as though he was about to open his mouth and spout some nonsense like  _ but I  _ **_am_ ** _ happy,  _ so Tyki simply pinned him with an unimpressed stare. “Warzone,” he reminded, gesturing between them. “Not a happy place to be.” Allen’s eyes darted away again on a sigh and he gestured for an elaboration. “One day,” Tyki hummed, hands clasped under his chin and his unwavering gaze on Allen’s flighty eyes, “I want to be  _ happy.” _

“Are you not?” Allen asked and Tyki saw the way he almost filled that conversational pothole with  _ and what’s that got to do with me?  _ Thin ice, thin ice. No, not even that. It was a fucking minefield. No man’s land, indeed. They needed trenches for this shit.

“I’m not,” Tyki confirmed. “But after half a moment’s consideration, I realised I’d still rather be  _ with  _ you than without.”

“Half a moment?” Allen arched his brow.

Tyki smiled, small and honest. “The alternative is rather bleak, I’ll admit. Doesn’t take me long to realise that.”

Allen huffed a laugh and glanced away again, still had the ability to be  _ flattered  _ after all this time. After all Tyki’s compliments had weathered down to nothing but honest remarks. 

“For want of a better analogy,” Tyki hummed, gestured between them the same way Allen had earlier, “I think the ceasefire has kept us from ending the war.”

Allen pulled in a slow breath, lips twisting in consideration while his fingers tapped the rhythm of his thoughts against the table. “So,” he hummed, eyes cutting to Tyki. “Parley?” he repeated his offer with half an reluctant smile. 

“Parley,” Tyki agreed and leaned back with a relieved groan. “God, I missed you,” he snorted. “No offence but it’s been like talking to a plank of wood for the past month.”

“The sex was pretty good,” Allen allowed, that small smile overtaking his scowl. “But other than that…” he trailed off with a wince.

“Mildly torturous,” Tyki offered with a shrug, to which Allen snorted a laugh. 

“Okay,” he allowed, “okay. So we need to get from mildly torturous to mildly bearable,” he stated, his grin almost turning bitter. “What’s the plan of action?”

“Well,” Tyki hummed, “don’t ask don’t tell isn’t really working for us.” Allen shrugged sheepish agreement. “What about a trial by fire?” he offered with a grin. “Every week we tell each other something we haven’t spoken about before.”

Allen frowned and raised a finger before plunging it down to poke against the desk. “Not only does that sound like a shitty highschool self-eval research project,” he stated blandly, “but it’s straight up asking for trouble,” he summarised, shooting Tyki an unimpressed look. Tyki rolled his eyes and gestured for Allen to take the wheel, settling back in his seat. “How about we just ditch the avoidance?” he supplied with a shrug. “Whenever you need to tell me you killed someone just  _ do  _ it. And whenever you’re being all moody-bitchy I get to call you out for it.”

“Well,” Tyki huffed, “I doubt I’m ever going to have to tell you  _ that  _ again.” He scowled at Allen’s smug smile. “It was a one-time thing.”

Allen rolled his eyes and corrected, “Whenever the illegal shit you do-”

_ “Did.” _

_ “Did,”  _ Allen glared, “weighs too hard on your delicate conscience, come to me.”

Tyki was quiet for a moment, lips pursed as he considered. “You know,” he hummed, “I think we’re on the wrong track with this.”

_ “How?”  _ Allen groaned, dropping his head onto his arm. “We’re making a conscious attempt to get on the  _ right  _ track,” he gritted, making his distaste for critical thinking clear.

“We’ve gotta do some stuff,” Tyki decided.

“I’m not going to couple’s therapy with you,” Allen stated immediately, hands firm on the table. “Bad idea. For you and me both.”

“Well there goes my proposal that we sign up for Doctor Phil,” Tyki rolled his eyes. “Honestly?” he shot Allen a scathing look. “We’re not doing couple’s therapy,” he stated,  _ “obviously.  _ We’d both end up in some kind of lockup, confidentiality be damned.” Allen dipped his head in reluctant agreement and looked at Tyki skeptically, waiting for him to continue. Tyki glanced over Allen’s getup of a white button up tucked into black slacks and shrugged. He was dressed much the same, plus a tie, and all it would take was a splash of cologne. “Allen Walker,” he proposed, pushing himself to stand, “would you like to go on a date with me?”

Allen frowned, glanced aside before looking at Tyki in confusion. “What, right now?” he asked, making no move to stand. “I thought we were parleying.”

“The setting is part of the issue, I think,” Tyki hummed, stepped to delicately take Allen’s hand and usher him to his feet. 

Allen seemed more than confused but followed Tyki’s lead regardless while he asked, “You don’t like your house?” 

“I don’t like you in my house,” he corrected, only realised how that sounded once the words were out of his mouth.

“Ten seconds,” Allen stated scathingly, at least respecting parley enough to give Tyki a chance.

“My  _ house,”  _ Tyki rushed to correct, “not you. Or you  _ being  _ here but - I mean, the fact that we’re  _ always  _ here-”

“Five.”

Tyki stopped halfway to the bathroom and spun, placed his hands on Allen’s shoulders. “You deserve a better setting than my lounge room,” he breathed in a rush, brought his hands up to cup Allen’s cheeks. “So…” he floundered, searched for the words he  _ meant,  _ “so let me take you somewhere you deserve to be.”

Allen held his eyes for a moment before glancing down, and - okay, yeah, Tyki could feel a little blush heating up under his fingers. “Zero,” Allen muttered and leaned his head against Tyki’s chest. “Nice recovery,” he remarked, a little muffled.

Tyki grinned and wrapped his arms around Allen’s shoulders, a hand against the back of his head. “Sorry for the slip,” he apologised and pressed a small kiss to the top of Allen’s head. It felt like too much, somehow. Too much for them, right now. Tyki shouldn’t be kissing the top of Allen’s head. He’d kind of lost that privilege when he hadn’t bothered to do it for three weeks. So he pulled away instead, hands back on the neutral ground of Allen’s shoulders, and gave his boy the smile they’d both been missing lately. Warm and genuine and  _ fond.  _ “Tidy your hair,” Tyki instructed, pushing him towards the bathroom. “I’ll call for a reservation.”

“It's already late,” Allen frowned but went ahead anyway. 

_ “Please,”  _ Tyki scoffed, digging the phone from his pocket. “Don’t doubt me.”

 

“I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“Sarcasm is not appreciated.”

“It wasn't sarcasm,” Allen refuted, grinned at Tyki over his burger. 

Tyki rolled his eyes a little and set his own down on the table, leaned back in his seat and loosened his tie. “When I envisioned taking you out, it was to somewhere like James Street,” he reasoned, more than a little dissatisfied. 

“At nine on a Friday with no prior reservation?” Allen prodded teasingly, taking another bite from his burger. “You don’t want to buy me ribs, Tyki Mikk,” Allen warned and glanced pointedly down at the three empty paper wraps and two more untouched burgers he had in front of him. “Dinner is not a sustainable date option,” he grinned cheekily.

“Maybe if you’re eating off the dollar menu,” he arched a brow, reaching across to pinch one of Allen’s chips and laughing at the way he lunged to save it. Hand pressed over Tyki’s victorious smirk, pouty glare on his own face. 

“Parley,” Allen gritted, squeezing Tyki’s cheeks a little.

“Parley include lettinb me shteal your food,” Tyki countered, words distorted by his grin and the way Allen was holding his cheeks.

Allen huffed and dropped his hand, glowering. “Can’t we go back to DADT?” he muttered, grabbing a handful of fries and shoving them in his mouth.

“Denied,” Tyki vetoed, crossed his arms against the table and leaned forwards. “How often can you deal with eating fast food?” he asked, stealing another fry from under Allen’s scathing glare.

“How often do you wanna make me?” Allen retorted around a mouthful of food and… yeah that  _ should  _ be gross but like. He was so goddamn cute,  _ how  _ had Tyki forgotten that? Trapped up in Tyki’s apartment, made familiar by familiar surroundings when he really was nothing short of extraordinary. 

“That’s a question with a limitless answer,” Tyki cocked a brow and wiped his fingers on a napkin.

“So’s yours,” Allen supplied with a cheeky grin and a small shrug. 

Tyki pressed his lips together, glanced away when he couldn’t stifle his grin. “Okay,” he allowed, “so. A treaty then,” he looked back, head dipped nothing like submission while he smiled up at Allen. More like cockiness, or maybe the desire to bury his face in his arms and grin like an idiot. “Tax-free trade on food. And…” he hummed, considering, “I’ll answer your questions, within reason.”

Allen made a vaguely appeased sound and continued to eat, elbows resting on the table while his eyes scanned through the patrons of the fast food joint. “Okay,” he said and swallowed his last mouthful of fries, “Open communication channels both ends,” he agreed, signing a tick in the air on Tyki’s imaginary list, “and I’ll stop cheating at poker.”

“Weak,” Tyki waved his hand, erasing that from their list. “I don’t need a handicap.”

“First of all,” Allen sat up, struggling not to laugh, “that’s not what a handicap is. Secondly,” he added and pulled Tyki’s cola across the table to sip on, “you kind of do.”

Tyki looked at him, unimpressed, and stated, “We’re not making that part of our treaty.” Allen snorted a laugh but shrugged, kicking back and gesturing for Tyki to take over. He hummed, thinking, before jabbing a dot point into the air between them, “We’re going to spend more time at your house.”

“What?” Allen frowned, reaching for a burger without sitting up. “Why? It’s on the other side of town.”

Tyki spread his hands in a sarcastic shrug and offered, “because I don’t want to be in  _ my  _ house constantly? I honestly believe that’s half the reason this whole thing got so messy.”

He shrugged and retorted, “But your house is pretty and big and has food and is in a good part of town. My one-room apartment is dirty and small and does not have food and is in an industrial estate.”

“But,” Tyki countered, reaching for Allen’s hand and smiling sweetly at him, “I get the feeling that if  _ I _ fall asleep in  _ your _ bed rather than the other way around,” he pressed his lips in a light kiss against Allen’s fingers, “then you’ll still be there when I wake up,” he grinned, eyes closed and heart pounding too hard. There it was. That was it. The action that spoke a hundred, a thousand times louder than all the times Allen had whispered  _ I love you  _ like he meant it. 

“...Tyki,” he said like he knew, like he could see whatever Tyki was hiding behind his closed eyelids. Tyki felt Allen’s fingers curl around his, opened his eyes when he felt Allen’s free hand trace across his cheek. He watched the unhappy curve of Allen’s mouth harden into something determined and kept the awkward instinct telling him to run locked away in his chest. “I hope you’re writing these down,” Allen stated, almost scowling. Closed his eyes for a moment before continuing, looking more upset than he had all evening, “Because I feel there’s a lot I have to make up to you.”

“It’s not,”  _ a big deal,  _ Tyki started to say but gave up when he realised he didn’t want to lie. Pressed his lips together while he thought of a better reassurance. “I’m being childish,” he smiled that close-eyed smile and realised that of  _ course  _ it wouldn’t fool Allen, it never could because it was  _ his.  _ It was Allen’s smile and Tyki borrowed it whenever he wanted to stop hurting. So he dropped Allen’s fingers and tried to look away and ended up with his cheeks caught between both the boy’s hands.

_ “Tyki,”  _ he stressed, squishing him a little. “You  _ are  _ being childish,” he scolded with a frown. “So finish your dinner and walk me home and I  _ promise,”  _ he drew out the word, trailed his hands down Tyki’s neck to rest on his shoulders, “I’ll make you believe I still love you in the morning.”

Tyki watched Allen’s earnest face, tongue caught between his teeth for a long while before he ducked his head with a sigh and tried to roll his eyes, tried to joke, “And all it took was the promise of free food.”

Allen closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, his hands finding Tyki’s on the table. “I feel really incredibly bad about this,” he confessed, face and voice pained. 

“You didn’t know,” Tyki shrugged, still trying to smile.

Allen sighed, released Tyki’s hands so he could angrily bite into one of his burgers. “I kind of did though,” he muttered, scowling at the table. “Always felt bad, but I had to go to class all the way across town. It wasn’t as though I could stay,” he reasoned, looking incredibly downtrodden with his eyebrows all bunched like that. 

“You don’t  _ have  _ to stay,” Tyki scoffed, offended by his idiot. “Just wake me up before you go,” he reasoned, reached a hand across the table with a grin to mess up the boy’s long hair.

Allen scowled and ducked out of the way, took another bite of his burger. “Come to my place,” he said around his mouthful, “and then I won’t  _ have  _ to.”

“Okay,” Tyki snorted and summarised, “so. We go to your place more often and in return you get free food and I’ll stop feeling the need to hide things about my past.” He grinned and asked, “Settled?”

“Surely more will pop up,” Allen narrowed his eyes, “but yeah,” he allowed. “Settled.”

 


End file.
